


Where the bird comes to nest

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée)
Genre: M/M, an old fic, harpy!Prunelle, i mean come on his hair looks like a bird's crest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: Gaton befriends a harpy.





	

 

 

Gaston frowned as the kite fell down once again.

Maybe it _was_ slightly too big.

 

But he was convinced that if he just managed to get it high enough up in the air, it would stay there.

But he just couldn't run fast enough, and the car he had been working on had, at the moment, top speed that was slightly slower than him walking at a brisk pace.

 

He stared at the kite. He'd just need to get it up in the air...

 

Of course! He had been saving them for a special occasion, but this if anything was special.

 

So he brought his home-made rockets out to the field.

Few weeks ago when he had last visited the nearby city, he had spotted a bunch of fireworks for sale, and bought the bunch.

 

Then he had proceeded to open them up and pour the contents into two huge rockets.

 

This should work. He tied them to the kite, and lighted the fuse.

 

What followed was an explosion that sent Gaston looking for cover and the kite sky high.

 

Gaston watched the kite fly in loops, all the while leaving a trail of smoke behind it, and eventually crash further away on the field.

 

Well, on the other hand, that had been a failure.

 

But, there had also been an explosion, which made it a successful experiment.

 

He approached the crashed kite, wondering how damaged it was.

 

However, when he got close enough, he spotted something unusual. The kite seemed to be moving, and based on the sounds it was making, it seemed almost like there was a huge bird trapped underneath.

 

But then it let go a string of vulgar curses that made Gaston blush and instinctively look over his shoulder whether aunt Hortensia was around to hear it.

 

He focused his attention back on the kite.

So, it didn't seem to be an animal, then. Had it crashed on top of someone? People really should be more careful.

 

”Hello?”

 

This only served to increase the movement, as if whoever it was was panicking.

It managed to get out from under the kite, but only by getting even more entangled with it.

 

And Gaston got a good look at it.

 

He stopped to stare.

It was a huge blueish bird, that much was obvious.

 

”Hello?” Gaston repeated, and this time it looked at him.

Revealing a very human face.

 

Well that explained why it had spoken, anyway.

Gaston stepped closer, making it panic again.

”You're only going to get yourself more entangled with my kite,” Gaston pointed out.

 

The bird stared at him but seemed to calm down.

Gaston was close enough to see the situation was so bad he'd have to get some tools if he wanted to get it free.

”My name is Gaston.” he told it. No harm in being polite. ”What's yours?” he asked just in case.

The bird stared.

 

Gaston wondered if it had been just mimicking human speech like some exotic birds did.

Although this was the first bird he had seen who was wearing glasses.

 

”I'll go get something to cut you free. Don't move.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Gaston returned with pliers and wire-cutters it became clear the bird hadn't taken his advice, and was even more badly trapped.

 

”Phuh, see? Told you.”

 

The bird tensed when Gaston walked to it and began his work, but didn't move. Not that it had much room to move, but even when it got it's legs free, it stayed put.

 

This close by Gaston noticed the creature was wearing clothing, some kind of a woolen waist-coat. And a wrist-watch (that had stopped) around one of it's legs.

 

”Here you go,” Gaston told it.

 

The bird stood up, grimacing and letting out a very human gasp of pain.

 

Gaston had saved enough birds from cats or from flying into things to recognize the problem.

”Your right wing. It's hurt.”

 

The bird tried to move it, which based on the gasp it made was a bad idea. The wing was sticking out in a slightly unnatural position.

 

”I can help,” Gaston said.

 

The look he got was dubious and distrusting.

 

”I have treated a lot of birds, not as big as you, but still...”

 

It looked uncertain.

 

”You can't fly,” Gaston pointed out. ”So, can you walk?”

 

The bird nodded, starting to follow him with an odd jumpy gait. ”Prunelle.”

 

Gaston stopped. ”What?”

 

”My name. You asked earlier.”

 

”So, you can talk!” Gaston smiled. ”Okay, Prunelle, let's see to your wing, OK?”

 

* * *

 

 

However, Prunelle refused to step inside. ”No.”

 

”But I need to treat your wing.”

 

”Do it outside. There's more room here anyway.”

 

He was clearly anxious.

 

”Fine, fine, just wait here.”

 

To Gaston's relief, Prunelle hadn't changed his mind and fled while he had been inside looking for something to treat him with.

 

”I don't think it's too badly broken,” Gaston told him. ”But it needs to be bandaged. By the way, these used to be my second-best sheets, you better appreciate it.”

 

”Thanks.”

 

”Well, it doesn't matter.” This close by, Gaston got a good look at his head. Which was a very normal human head, apart from a tuft of hair that resembled a crest of a bird. In any case it was sort of out of place on a bird. He even had a beard, which somehow was the weirdest thing about him.

 

Gaston finished the bandage. ”How does it feel?”

 

”Horrible. But not as bad as before. I have to ask, though. Did you do it on purpose?”

 

”What?”

 

”Hit me with that- that _thing._ ”

 

”Phuh, obviously not! It was you who hit my kite! Broke it too, probably.”

 

”A kite? I have seen those. Never as big as that one, though.”

 

Gaston beamed. ”It's the biggest kite in the world! Or it will be once I get it to stay in the air. Well, it was technically airborne for a few seconds... Wait!”

 

Prunelle jumped. ”What!?”

 

”You can fly. I mean, normally. So once your wing is all healed, you can help me with it! The problem I have with it is that I can't get it high enough. But if you can carry it to the sky...”

 

”I- guess I could do that?”

 

”Great! For now, though, are you planning to stay outside? It's getting dark and the weather report promised rain.”

 

”I can't come in. No.”

 

”Hmh, well, you can spend the night in the barn. It's fairly empty these days.”

 

”Do you live alone?” Prunelle asked, looking around.

 

”For now. I used to live with my aunt, but she is old, and her health hasn't been too good, so she mostly stays in the city with her sister.”

 

Prunelle nodded.

 

Gaston lead him to the barn. ”This OK?”

 

”I can deal with this,” he told him.

 

”So, good night then. Or do you want something to eat? What _do_ you eat?”

 

”Berries, meat if it's not raw, fruit. But I'm not particularly hungry.”

 

”Okay then, good night.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gaston opened the barn door, holding a basket of jelly-sandwiches he hoped would be suitable breakfast for bird-people.

 

”Morning?”

 

He stopped, scanning the barn for his guest.

 

He finally spotted the bird, sitting up in the rafters.

Gaston's first thought was that he was headless, before he realized he was sleeping, head tucked under his healthy wing.

 

Gaston was just wondering whether trying to rouse him would be a good idea, when he lifted his head and looked around, startled. It seemed for a moment Prunelle tried to fly away, before realizing his situation.

 

”I brought breakfast.”

 

Prunelle climbed down using the ladder, and jumped to the floor.

With surprising dexterity, he lifted his glasses from a chair with his talons and put them on.

 

Gaston watched, astonished and pointed at Prunelle's feet. ”They're like hands!”

 

”I suppose so.”

 

”So, I brought breakfast!”

 

”Thanks.”

 

Gaston watched him pick up sandwich after another with his feet, and scarf them down.

 

”So, where are you from? I have never seen anyone like you.”

 

”Far away. I don't usually fly so close to humans, but...” He trailed off.

 

”Are there a lot of people like you?”

 

”Not as much as I hear there used to be. We don't much keep in contact with each other and I'm not- I guess humans call it 'married'. So I mostly fly alone. I used to fly with a tengu called Lebrac, but he has his family now, so...”

 

”Ah. Well, I'm mostly alone too.”

 

An awkward silence fell.

 

”I noticed you have a watch,” Gaston said.

 

”It's mine! I found it!”

 

”Erm, okay. But it's stopped, isn't it?”

 

Prunelle nodded. ”Yes, it used to move. I don't exactly have a lot of need for it, but it was pretty.”

 

”I can fix it for you. I fix a lot of stuff,” Gaston offered.

 

”I... guess so.” Prunelle lifted his leg, letting Gaston take the watch.

 

”You fix things?”

 

”Yeah.” Gaston pointed at the car he kept in the barn. ”I'm currently working on that.”

 

”Can you fix glasses? Or make them?”

 

”Glasses? Like eyeglasses? Yours don't look broken.”

 

”Well, they aren't broken, I guess. And they help a bit... But I was wondering if you could make them better?”

 

”Sorry, you'd need to get a new pair.”

 

”Ah, of course.”

 

”So, do you need anything?” Gaston asked.

 

”Books.”

 

”What kind of books?”

 

” _Any_ kind of books.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Over the next week, Gaston ended up carrying most of the books in his house to the barn, where his house-guest spent all his days, reading.

 

Every now and then, he'd bombard Gaston with questions, most of which he had no answer to.

'So, some countries have kings, and some have presidents? Why?'

'How does the sewer system work?'

'So Spider-Man isn't real but New York is?'

 

Currently Gaston was trying to explain to him where Russia was.

”Well, it's east of Europe-”

 

”But I don't know where Europe is," Prunelle pointed out. "If I wanted to fly to Russia, what direction I should fly to? Would there be oceans on the way?”

 

Gaston let out a frustrated sigh. ”I try to find an Atlas or something. Didn't you ever go to school?”

 

”Well, no. Not in the way human children do. My mother taught me how to fly, find food and hide from humans. And some stories. I can only read because I pestered Spirou to teach me how, and I'm not sure where he learned it... I suspect he has been talking to humans. Well, I'm now too, so who am I to judge?”

 

”Oh. I never thought about that. Anyway, I should be going.”

 

”Where?”

 

”I need to drive to the town, to go shopping. Do you want anything?” He hurried to add:

”Apart from more books.”

 

”No, I don't need much.”

 

* * *

 

 

Not surprisingly, Prunelle was in almost the same position when Gaston came back, sitting on the barn floor, turning pages with his feet.

 

”Hello.”

 

Prunelle gave a quick smile to his host and continued reading.

”I don't get it, is the narrator supposed to be whiny and unlikable? Then again, if he spends all his days underground-” He shook with disgust. ”I'd go insane within a day.”

 

”I dunno, never read-” Gaston took a look at the book, ”Dostoyevsky.”

 

Prunelle looked at him, disbelieving. ”You have books you haven't read?”

 

”It's my aunt's. Anyway, I have a surprise for you.”

He dragged a suitcase out. ”Need to be careful with this, I'm only borrowing these, well, most of them.”

He opened the case, satisfied at the surprised gasp from Prunelle.

 

”So many!”

 

Gaston waved his hand at the selection of eyeglasses. ”You only get to keep one pair, though. One that fits you. I need to return the others. I managed to convince the optician to let me borrow them, I told him I had a friend who was sick and couldn't come himself.”

 

”One pair is more than enough.” He gave Gaston a smile that had warmth he hadn't shown before.

 

”I don't know how to- I only have the watch and my old glasses, but you can have those in return-”

 

Gaston shook himself from his reverie, having gotten lost somewhere in that smile and then staring into his eyes. ”No, I don't need anything. They aren't all that expensive.”

 

Prunelle gave him a wistful smile. ”Not even expensive? You really have it good, don't you?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”No, it's just... We don't really have anything like that. Clocks or cars or glasses. Some of us can weave, or make things out of clay, but...”

He stopped, but Gaston had a feeling he'd continue, so he stayed silent.

 

Just when he was thinking of asking him more, he continued.

”So when I was young and it became clear my eyesight was bad... Well... It was bad. But my mother went and found these,” he pointed at his glasses. ”I don't know how she 'found' them, but in hindsight, she must have stolen them. But I could _see_ with them! Not as well as others, but still...”

 

”Prunelle...”

 

”It's nothing, really.” He was suddenly determined. ”But we weren't always like this. I don't believe so, anyway. There are stories of large cities, hanging from cliffs, and magical things, which are probably technology. But we just don't know. We don't even know what we _are._ And what we called ourselves. Did we name ourselves 'harpies' and 'tengus', or was that what humans called us?

Did we have a language of our own? Why are all harpies depicted in human art female?

I want to find out what's true.”

 

”So, have you found anything from these books that help you find that out?”

 

”Not really. But there are other things, that are just as important. About human history, and technology, and government.” He sighed. ”I don't really know if I can really do anything substantial for my people, but...”

There was that smile again. ”I haven't even talked about this with anyone before. Except Lebrac, he had some interest in old art, and techniques humans use to paint.”

 

”Prunelle...”

Gaston reached out to him.

 

And was pushed back by a startled Prunelle.

”What!?”

 

”Sorry!” Gaston told him. ”I just sort of... Wanted to hug you.”

 

Prunelle looked embarrassed. ”Ah. Sorry, but being restrained like that feels really uncomfortable.”

 

”Of course. You're a bird. Sorry, I forgot.”

 

”Well, I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

* * *

 

 

”Are you ready?”

 

Prunelle stretched his wings. ”I don't know.”

He adjusted his brand new glasses. ”There's no pain, but let's hope I haven't lost too much of my strength.”

 

”Okay, go on!” Gaston cheered.

 

He set off, a bit wobbly at first, but little by little he gained altitude, and eventually was just a small speck on the sky.

 

And Gaston was suddenly stricken with fear that he'd never come back.

 

However, the harpy soon landed next to him.

Gaston almost tried to hug him again, before he remembered it was a bad idea, and gave him a soft pat on the wing instead.

Prunelle looked satisfied. ”I'm a bit out of breath, but not too bad.”

 

”You're not leaving yet, are you?”

 

”I-” Prunelle looked thoughtful. ”I need to regain my strength first. So I'll stay for a while. But I have to leave eventually. I just... Need to be able to fly.”

 

Gaston nodded. ”But not yet, right?”

 

”Not yet.”

 

So he stayed for a while, flying a bit further every day, but always returning to the barn to continue reading.

But like he had told him, one day Prunelle said his goodbyes, and flew away with promises of return.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Gaston saw him was middle of the winter.

 

There was a knock on the door, and he opened the door to find Prunelle, wearing a knitted scarf and a hat. ”Hi.”

 

Gaston returned his smile. ”Come in.”

 

Prunelle shook his head. ”The barn is fine.”

 

”But it's snowing! And really cold!”

 

”I'm used to it.”

 

”Wait a second.”

Confused, Prunelle stood on the door, listening to the sounds of something heavy being moved.

 

Gaston ran back. ”Come on, I emptied out the living room. It's almost as big as the barn, and now there's no furniture, so it looks even bigger.”

 

Prunelle stepped in, looking uncomfortable. ”I guess I could come and see.”

 

Gaston led him to the empty room. ”See? And there's a fireplace, so it's warm.”

 

Prunelle nodded. ”I think I can deal with this. The windows are large, and it doesn't look too cramped, even if I can't get out easily.”

He gulped. ”I'm not sure I can- At least in the barn I could easily get outside.”

 

”It's okay,” Gaston told him. ”The window opens, you could fit through there.”

 

”I think I can try to stay here. For a while.”

 

This time Prunelle stayed for a week, spending his nights sleeping on top of the fireplace.

Then he left, explaining that it was too much, but he'd come back.

 

And he did come back, few months later, with new questions and requests for books that would teach him other languages.

 

But once more, he had to leave.

 

”You come back, don't you?” Gaston asked.

 

”I'll always come back to you.”

 

Gaston took a hesitant step towards him. ”So, I think you once told me you're not married?”

 

”Ah, well... That's no longer true.”

 

”Oh.”

 

”I guess I should explain, if you- I'm not sure what you'll think, but...”

He looked away. ”It's not a 'marriage' the same way human marriage works, that's not really a good translation. It's more like a deep attachment you form with someone. Although the one I have ended up forming that bond with probably doesn't return it.”

 

”Is it some ladybird?”

 

” _No!_ It's you, obviously!”

 

”Oh.” Gaston tried to come up with anything else to say. ”So we're married?”

 

”Not really? Not the way humans mean it. Unless you- return it? I do realize it's not really the kind of marriage humans want, and I never meant to do it with you. Or a human, I mean, no offense, but you do look sort of weird. And I'd be spending weeks or months at a time away, so...”

 

”Can I kiss you?” Gaston asked. ”I mean, that's traditional for human marriages.”

 

Prunelle nodded. ”Yes.”

 

Gaston craned his neck, careful not to touch him too much, and they kissed. To his surprise, he found blue wings surrounding him.

 

”I don't really like being hugged, but I can do this, if you do enjoy things like that,” Prunelle explained. ”Do you?”

 

Gaston pushed against his chest. ”I do.”

 

Prunelle kissed him again. ”And there are other things I can do, if you enjoy them. I have read lot of books about this sort of stuff. Your aunt had a surprising taste in romance-novels.”

 

Gaston laughed. ”And I'm pretty curious to see how birdpeople do it.”

 

”It will be fine, won't it?” Prunelle asked. ”I mean, this sort of thing is-”

 

”It will be fine,” Gaston reassured him. ”Just fine.”

 


End file.
